Hekate, p.6
Hekate, page 6
Styx Visited More Often Now
The halls of my palace on her riverbanks
were no longer as empty as they once were.
Since that day in Tartarus,
something had changed.
Ever since then, Styx took her evening
nectar and ambrosia with me.
She would ask me about my day,
and tell me about the souls she ate.
This used to scare me, but I understood
the rules of godhood better now.
I still did not know my gifts precisely.
But one day I walked
to the mouth of the cave the river
came through and found violet flowers.
I put them inside a pot in the kitchen
and carefully stole a thimbleful of Styx’s water.
When I added it to the flowers,
I watched as they turned a vibrant blue,
then a violent yellow and then the whole pot
melted into a mess of yellow metal.
And my halls smelled for days
of a strange fragrance I could not name.
If Styx noticed, she did not say anything.
But Pallas, my uncle, on one of his visits
commented upon it. ‘Have you been burning
Krokos in here? I keep smelling saffron.’
Krokos. That was the name of the first
of many, many flowers I would one day know.
It was also the first time this dark palace
began to feel familiar, like the home
I had once known.
Attempts at Discovery
Styx, Pallas and Charon
all tried to help me
discover my powers.
Styx brought me to
a lake of tears in the Underworld
and showed me how to control water.
I tried for days and the water
would not rise to my fingers.
Pallas showed me fire,
and how to forge.
But I simply made a mess
of every metal I tried to tame.
Charon showed me
how to manipulate the winds.
But try as I might,
I could not create
even a slight breeze
to take me anywhere.
I was determined
to find out
what I could be.
But no matter what I did,
the discovery of who I was meant
to be felt out of reach.
A Strange Meeting
As a child I ached for company,
but now that I was older,
I yearned for it even more.
I wanted to talk to someone
who knew their purpose,
someone perhaps my own age.
When the yearning grew too loud
and during the days that Charon,
Pallas and Styx were nowhere to be seen,
I would walk with my lantern
to a safe distance
from where Cerberus stood.
He growled and barked
but the noise of another being
that breathed in this place where
nothing seemed to breathe
gave the restlessness in me
a little bit of peace.
I would sit for hours,
until he got tired of his barking
and lay down, one pair of six eyes
watching me suspiciously.
It happened on a day like this.
I was sitting with my lantern,
Cerberus straining against his chain,
all three heads barking at me,
when a voice spoke to me from the dark.
‘If you want to be friends with him
you need to give him treats.’
I frowned, turning my light
in the direction of the voice.
That was when I saw him.
A boy with shorn hair
and an angular face, dressed
in long robes. But it was his eyes that sang.
They were so tired and yet so kind.
He held a staff in one hand
and in his other hand,
three red, red cuts of raw meat.
Unlike his reaction with me
Cerberus whined in the direction
of this visitor, his huge tail thumping.
The boy stepped forward
and gently placed the meat
before each head.
The three-headed dog
devoured them hungrily.
And then the boy reached forward
and touched one of Cerberus’ heads.
‘Hello, little one,’ he whispered,
‘It has been some time.’
‘Little one?’ I exclaimed,
‘He is three times the size of a lion!’
The boy chuckled at this.
‘All dogs are little ones to me.
I see them all from birth to death.’
He looked at me.
‘Would you like to try being friends
with him now? He should be docile.’
I nodded and stood up.
The dog’s closest head turned to me
and a soft growl escaped his throat.
But when I showed him my hand,
he snuffled it softly
and, swallowing hard,
I reached out and touched his nose.
Cerberus whined and thumped
his tail even harder.
And I smiled. ‘So this is how
we become friends.
I shall remember the treats
from now on.’
I turned to thank the boy
but to my surprise, he was gone.
Styx’s Rules for Me
Do not leave the caves.
Do not go near my river.
Do not TOUCH my river’s waters.
I mean it, Hekate, do not touch my river’s waters – I will know.
Do not talk to spirits.
Definitely do not make friends with spirits.
Do not play with Cerberus, his duty is protecting the gates.
Do not steal my wine.
Do not walk through the doors to the Underworld without my permission or permission from Hades.
Do not speak to any Gods or Goddesses who you do not know.
I Broke (Most of) the Rules
Mostly because I was bored
but, as Styx and Pallas said,
I was headstrong.
The first rule I broke
was the one about leaving
the caves. Outside,
there was a forest full of irises
and violets and roses.
I did not travel far
from the mouth of the cave,
but I did collect herbs
to crush under my mortar
and pestle to see what happened,
combining them with ambrosia
or nectar to eat and drink.
Once I turned my feet turquoise
by drinking a concoction of herbs,
and Styx had to help turn them back
to the colour they naturally were.
I took meat to Cerberus,
which my kitchen provided,
for it was blessed with the ability
to provide anything I ever needed,
each pot filled with what I desired.
I played with Cerberus all the time.
I carefully used Styx’s waters
in my strange flower potions.
I stole Styx’s wine
and even shared some
with Charon when he came by
to play dice
or tell me stories.
And still, I wanted more.
There is only so long an immortal child
can be left to her own devices.
My mother once told me that as a child
she had countless cousins to play with.
Naiads and Oceanids, water nymphs
and River Gods. But I had no playmates.
Pallas had taught me how to carve
horses and bears and wolves
out of the bones left of mortals
who had ventured too far
and ended up drinking Styx’s water.
But carving was a poor replacement
for a playmate. So I decided
one day long ago to walk
through those forbidden doors.
Not only would I talk to ghosts,
but perhaps ghosts would make
good companions.
The Fields of Asphodel
had become my favourite place to visit.
I knew that the mist felt dull to some,
but to me, it was mysterious.
I knew that the lavender in the fields
only added to the grey of the mist,
but flowers signalled a form of life.
Perhaps I was simply fascinated
by the waiting people
who walked into this place.
They would awaken confused here.
Sometimes they would stop to ask me
where they were, and tell me their story.
Like the woman who was once queen
until her husband and his lover poisoned her,
but she had died leaving a curse over them.
Or the man who escaped wolves
by singing them to slumber
only to step on a sleeping adder.
Death truly was a great equalizer.
For where else could you find a king
and a fisherman playing cards together?
Asphodel taught me that the Gods
may be eternal but mortals
have the very best of stories.
Tales From the Mortal World
I would sit in awe and listen
to ghosts tell the tales
of their lives.
They spoke of sickness but
also of joy.
Fear but also of tenderness.
I once met a man
who travelled the high seas
and fell in love with a siren.
He spoke of the ocean
with such love even though
its waters were what killed him.
But the most heartbreaking stories
came from children
taken long before their time.
One small child told me
that all he got was two thousand
sunrises before he lost his breath.
So this was how they measured
their lives, in the span of sunrises
and moonsets.
There were tales of parents
who lost their children,
and lovers who lost each other.
But a thread ran through all,
and that thread was named love.
When asked if they would
ever want to live again
they all said they would
if only to know love once more.
The Asphodel Fields
and their eternity of spirits
were my education on mortals
but most of all
on love.
War Seen Through Different Eyes
War is different
for those who are finite.
I learned this from
the stories mortals told me.
Immortals lived past it
yet mortals saw war as an ending.
To us in the Underworld,
every ending was a beginning.
If you were fortunate enough,
you awoke in the verdant green
of the glowing Elysian Fields,
a place where the virtuous and heroic went.
But most mortals at the end of a war
came to the Asphodel Meadows.
War brought a great influx of lost souls.
I watched them, hidden away in the mists.
The last time there was a war on Earth,
I tried to count how many dead
awakened in the mists of these
quiet, grey meadows.
I learned quickly never to do that again.
Duty
When Styx first caught me
all by myself in Asphodel
she had been deeply upset
and did not hide her displeasure.
‘It is not your duty to be there,’
she said, gripping my arm
and nearly dragging me back
to my palace.
‘Why!’ I had cried out,
shocked by her forcefulness,
and she turned to me,
her split eyes cold with fury.
‘Hekate, I made a promise
to your mother to keep you safe.
The only immortals who roam
the Underworld do so
out of duty to Hades or
because they have been
imprisoned by another God,
but never ever by choice.’
When we arrived at the palace,
she let go of my arm
and I rubbed it where
she had gripped me,
a frown forming on my face.
‘I too am not here by choice,’
I told her sullenly. ‘I should
be allowed to roam too.’
The anger in her features softened,
‘You are a child of war,
and the Underworld is no place
for children, God or mortal.’
She added quietly,
‘There are beings here
that even Hades cannot control.
Beings that could harm you.’
A chill ran down my spine
at her words. ‘What kind of beings?’
But she ignored my question and
simply touched my face.
‘Just know that staying
in this palace is the only way
I can keep you safe.
This realm alone is my domain.
You can only go into
the Asphodel Meadows
if they become a part
of your duties.’
A Pull
I tried to occupy myself
within the palace to appease
Styx. One of the clay pots
in the kitchen
could be used to summon
anything I desired and I made it
summon lavender and irises,
roses and mugwort so I could
keep making my potions.
Once I poured a concoction
onto the floors and turned
the onyx into pristine marble.
Pallas laughed, but Styx
was not pleased at all since
she did not like my experiments.
She thought they would draw attention
from the strange things
that occupied this realm.
The trouble was I was restless.
I still thought of my parents.
The cruel fate of my mother.
The sad eyes of my father.
I had made a promise when
I saw him in Tartarus.
I would free him.
And it was a promise
I intended to keep,
but I could not do that from here.
Palace walls spoke no answers.
And it was not long
before I found myself
walking back into Asphodel.
As I walked that day
through the meadows,
the scent of lavender
mixing with mist.
I heard the sound of
reuniting families.
Brother meeting brother,
sisters together again,
fathers seeing their sons,
but the pull I felt most
was towards the women
still waiting for their loved ones.
Women who were all alone
but, like the North Star,
shone like celestial bodies
in these grey fields.
Every War Had Them
The women who got here first.
Some of them were scarcely more than girls.
Others wore maps of memory across
their aged skin, long silver hair cascading
like water down their backs.
They found one another in these fields,
learned to make families out of each other
when their own loved ones were nowhere
to be found. I know this because in those
early days, I had grown close to the ways
of the spirits inside these meadows.
Styx may not have understood this yet,
but I had learned to be observant
as all children of dark situations do.
So I watched at first as the women
gathered and sat together in circles.
I watched as they told stories
and sang songs from where they came.
It was these vibrant tales and lyrics
that drew me closer to them every day.
And when one day
I was finally close enough,
they did not fall silent.
Instead, they simply shifted
and made space in their circle for me.
Tales From Across the World
These circles were rich with folklore,
and they held such vibrant stories and songs.
Some of them were about the bloodshed,
but others were about happier times,
childhoods spent chasing the sun and
girlhoods spent dreaming in the moonlight.
There were other tales, too, of Goddesses
from the new ruling family of Olympians.
The fury of Hera but also her kindness
to women during childbirth.
The might of Athena but also her partiality
for heroes above all else.
I absorbed everything about this ruling family
of Gods from these women.
The Olympians were the reason why
my mother was now an island far away.
They were the reason why my father
and his brothers were trapped in Tartarus.
But the women also gave me stories of kings
and their queens, farmers and artists.
Their great loves and great conquests
all won and gone in the blink of an eye.
Everything seemed so much more finite
